


Like Coming Home

by Katseester



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Established Relationship, Hugs, M/M, Touching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-06
Updated: 2016-07-06
Packaged: 2018-07-21 20:02:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7401898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katseester/pseuds/Katseester
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shiro is back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like Coming Home

**Author's Note:**

> I'm in sheith hell, save me

It was nearly dawn.  
  
It was nearly dawn, and Shiro was back.  
  
There were a thousand things Keith wanted to say, countless words on the tip of his tongue, but not now. Not when the other three were here, not when they had no idea what was going on and couldn't possibly understand the gravity of - this. Of Shiro. Home.  
  
And Shiro was looking at him. Looking at him with the same steady stare he had levelled on Keith countless times before - before. When they were both still at the Garrison, when Keith was angry and bitter and wanted nothing more than to take a hoverbike and just _drive_ , and Shiro laughed and said, _maybe, one day, I'll take you out on one._  
  
It was, perhaps, part of the reason Keith had stolen one as he left.  
  
Pidge, maybe sensing Keith's desire to be left alone, nudged both Lance and Hunk in the sides and said, "We're gonna go make sure this area's secure. C'mon."  
  
"I think you two've got a handle on it," Lance said. "Besides, I want to give mullet-boy here a piece of my mind - "  
  
"I _said_ , come _on_ , Lance," Pidge interrupted. "Hunk, give me a hand?"  
  
The three of them left, Hunk pulling behind him a protesting Lance.  
  
That left Keith and Shiro, and a thick silence hanging between them. The words Keith had been itching to say died in his throat, the questions he had fizzling out before he could make sense of them.  
  
"So," Keith began, just as Shiro said, "Uh."  
  
"You're back," Keith stated.  
  
"Yeah. I am," Shiro agreed.  
  
Keith shoved his hands into his pockets, hunching his shoulders, and Shiro reached up to scratch at the back of his head.  
  
Was it supposed to be like this? Awkward, stilted, nothing like how it was before.  
  
"I have a set of clothes that you can change into, if you want," Keith suggested, glancing around the room. "Just a few things you, uh, left behind. I grabbed them when I...y'know."  
  
Shiro's expression was a complicated one, brows knotted and mouth pulled to a hard line. "That would be great, thanks," he said, slowly, like he wasn't quite sure what to make of it.  
  
"Here, it's...I just have them back here."  
  
He retrieved the articles of clothing and gave them to Shiro, who didn't move.  
  
"Oh, sorry," Keith said, and could feel the heat rising to his cheeks. "I can leave - "  
  
"No, you don't have to - "  
  
"I'll just...turn around, then."  
  
"Yeah, that's - fine."  
  
Keith tried to ignore the shuffle of clothing against skin as Shiro changed, tried to ignore the images it conjured in his mind; the vivid memories of skin against clothing against skin, lips sliding together and then apart, hands in his hair and on his back, his thigh, his waist -  
  
"It smells like you."  
  
Keith jumped, and when he looked up Shiro looked so much like Shiro, how he used to look before he went missing, that it knocked the breath out of his lungs.  
  
But Shiro wasn't the same; he still had that shock of white hair against black, the scar pulling tight across his nose, the arm that wasn't quite his anymore.  
  
"Nothing like the real thing though," Shiro teased, mouth quirking into a small half-smile.  
  
"Of course not," Keith scoffed, and he saw the tired lines around Shiro's eyes lessen a little as his expression softened. "I missed you," he admitted, because now seemed like the right time for that sort of thing. They were alone, it wasn't quite dawn, and Shiro -  
  
Shiro was close. Closer than he had been.  
  
"I missed you, too," Shiro breathed, closer still, and _god_ Keith had missed being with him. "I don't remember much but I know - I remember the feeling. Are we...still okay?"  
  
It had been a year, and things had changed, but Shiro was back and Keith, who had never really given up hope that he might still be alive, was just now feeling the relief sinking in.  
  
Maybe...  
  
Maybe it _was_ okay. Maybe they were okay.  
  
"Yeah," Keith sighed, and he let Shiro wind his arms around his back and pull him up against his chest. He had missed that, too.  
  
He hugged Shiro back and noted that Shiro was trembling - only so slightly it was barely noticeable - and wondered just _what_ had happened to him during the year he was missing but - not now. Not when it was so quiet and Shiro had his face buried in Keith's hair.  
  
If he could stand there forever he would, he thought, but the sun was beginning to rise over the horizon and Lance's aggravated voice outside was beginning to swell and they had spent long enough alone.  
  
Shiro took a deep breath in and said, "I think your friend is getting antsy." He pulled away, slow and reluctant, and Keith shared the sentiment.  
  
"Lance isn't my friend, and he can bite my - "  
  
"Keith."  
  
Keith sighed. "Yeah. I know. Let's go."  
  
He had begun to hate this house, this old, dusty thing in the middle of the desert, the only thing he had after - after. After Shiro.  
  
But Shiro was back, and his quiet presence made what Keith had begun to detest something else, something new, something that was _worth_ something, because after a year it wasn't just a place to sleep after staying up all night fruitlessly trying to connect the dots, angry and frustrated and losing hope. It was the place that lead him to Shiro, and that didn't seem so bad.  
  
The sun rose, and it was a new day.


End file.
